I Hope They Don't Miss Me Too Much
by Jinny the Kisaragi
Summary: Just a little something I whipped up. Medic centric, please enjoy.


"**I Hope They Don't Miss Me Too Much"**

I was cold, cold and tired. I didn't understand what was going on, what had happened, or where I was.

I opened my eyes. It looked like I was in a concrete room, and I vaguely remembered the battle that had waged earlier today. Little things came back to me, like lining up in the respawn room with my team and rushing out behind Heavy, but that was about it.

Which meant I still didn't know how I ended up here. I woke up slumped up against the sewer wall, the silence around me deafening save for the few drips of water that echoed throughout. Weakly, I got up, hoping to find a member of my team to help me. The cold shivers were most likely a symptom of me getting sick, for I had no idea how long I'd been out here for, let alone what kind of viruses could have attacked my immune system in that time. It would be highly ironic for me to catch a cold. I'm usually the one caring for my team when they fall ill, but I know Heavy would be willing to help me.

Chuckling to myself a little, I began to walk through the tunnel. Heavy was a wonderful friend. If there's one thing I knew for certain, it's that the Russian would always be there for me, no matter what. Not to mention that we were quite the force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. He was a little overprotective at times, yes, but I know it's just because he cares.

But the more I thought about Heavy and the rest of the team, the more I began to wonder just where they all were. The battle couldn't still be raging on; otherwise I would surely be hearing the blasts of bombs and fire of guns, the whoosh of a flamethrower, the occasional crack of a rifle. Of course there would also be the constant call of 'Medic!' telling me to hurry up and heal whoever was shouting. I shook my head a bit. Soldier was usually the culprit for such aggressive forms of motivation. In fact, he thought of his Disciplinary Action as something that inspired us to do better. Tch, the only reason we ran faster was because that thing _hurt._

All in all, however, Soldier meant well. Whenever he screamed at us for 'dishonouring this entire unit', it was because he didn't want to see us fail. He knew we could do better, he saw it in us, and he knew that we just needed to get a little madder to perform a little better. After all the insults and degrading nicknames –his favourite for me was 'Cupcake', ugh–it was nice to hear that you did a good job, and Soldier never hesitated to tell you when you did so. A great slap on the back and a moment of praise meant a lot when coming from a man that did nothing but shout at you all day.

I frowned. Above all things, Soldier was loyal. Loyal to his country, of course, but also _very_ loyal to his teammates. I began to wonder why I was left here in the sewer, knocked out cold. It didn't even seem like the others were looking for me. However, all thoughts of abandonment were left behind when I heard the sound of rapid footfalls on the floor above me. That had to be Scout!

A feeling of relief washed over me as my walk broke into a run down the sewer. I could see the stairs now, and the metal platform that led onto them assured my thoughts that this was the Double Cross battlefield. Scout's quick pace suddenly stopped, and I could hear a series of voices above. They sounded urgent, panicked.

I couldn't help feeling a little glad that they were worried and searching. I called to them, running towards the stairs, but no matter how much I called, they didn't hear me. Upon coming closer, their words became comprehensible to me instead of simply muffled noise. They spoke of different areas, the lower bridge or the intel room. Then multiple pairs of feet dispersed in different directions, and I could hear one of them coming down to the sewers, calling for me. The Bostonian accent was unmistakeable. Scout was coming down for me.

Once he came into view, I could see how distraught he was. I had never seen him like this before, and I smiled at him once he turned to face me. I told him that I was all right, that everything was fine and he and the team could stop worrying now.

What surprised me was that he didn't even react. He stopped for a moment, listening, but broke off into a sprint straight towards me, like he didn't even see me. I tried speaking to him again, but I was cut short when he ran _straight through me_ and continued down the sewers, calling for me.

I couldn't move. I was frozen with shock. What had just happened?

A gasp and anguished cry of my class name broke me out of my trance. I turned and ran back in the direction that Scout had gone, hearing 'Medic' many more times in a much more frightened and frantic tone.

Finally, I caught up with the boy, but there was someone else with him that I did not expect to see.

It was me.

I was slumped up against the sewer wall, blood soaking my coat where a Spy had stabbed me. That was right where I had been before I woke up, I recalled. But now, a devastated and broken young man sat straddling me, knees on either side of me. He was leaned forward, grabbing me by the lapels as he shook me as hard as he could. He screamed, begged, pleaded for me to wake up, for my eyes to open and reassure him that everything would be okay like I usually did when he lost hope. Tears flowed freely from his eyes and down his cheeks as he tried and failed to choke back his sobs. Eventually, he flopped forward and buried his face into my chest, still trying to fight the tears and his emotions with them. He wrapped his arms around my torso tightly and cried, probably hoping that by some miracle he would hear a heartbeat, or that I would pull an arm around him and hug him back.

My heart felt like it was made of bricks at that moment. Poor Scout had probably never experienced anything like this before. He was in a warzone, yes, but usually, we had respawn. There really was no _true_ death around here, and the idea that I would never come back was probably just starting to sink in.

It had begun to sink in with me, too. My brain was just not willing to accept the fact that respawn hadn't saved me this time, and it never would again. It had been my safety net for so long that death no longer seemed like something that would ever happen. It was simply an idea that I would be unconscious for about two seconds and wake up in the resupply with more teammates to heal. But seeing myself, cold and lifeless, and seeing Scout and just how devastated he was and how much agony he looked to be in, I finally began to realize that I wouldn't be coming back.

Upon coming to this conclusion, I also realized that I could do nothing to comfort the runner that clung to me as if I still had some life left in me, and if he let go, it would be gone. Slowly, I walked to him and knelt down beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder even though I knew he couldn't feel it. I wished that he hadn't been the one to find me. I wished someone who had seen death before had stumbled across me so that the pain might've not been so unbearable for him. He must've been hoping that I was alive while he was searching, causing his stomach to drop when he found my corpse, dead. Scout always bragged about how tough he was, how he was as strong and skilled as us any day. While that may have been true, there was one thing he didn't have: a little something called experience. And a shock like the death of a teammate undid his façade completely. I had never believed it anyway, but I didn't treat him like a child because of it. It's only human to be, well… _human. _I think that's why he trusted me so much.

The rest of the team must've heard him shouting at me, because I could hear their footsteps thundering towards where we were. They flooded into the sewers, one after another, and Scout lifted his head to look at the first other person that had made it in.

While Scout looked up at Heavy with wide, conflicted, sorrowful eyes, the Russian mirrored his expression knowingly and sadly. He helped Scout up, who was still sniffling and wiping stray tears from his eyes, and kneeled beside my body. I could tell by his utter silence that he was heartbroken as he picked me up gently and nestled me in his arms.

As he carried me back, my teammates took off their hats in respect, watching silently and following behind Heavy.

When he finally reached the infirmary, Heavy retrieved a clean lab coat for me and replaced my bloody one. Engineer and Demoman had been able to find materials and create a coffin for me, which my Russian friend, gently as ever, laid me in.

Then, they left me in the room alone. I followed them for a while, seeing that they were heading towards the doors leading outside the base. I was unsure of where they were going until Sniper, stoic as ever, came out of the kitchen, carrying a case of beer.

I was going to go with them, just to sit with them one last time, but I heard the door to my infirmary open and close with a very small creak. It couldn't have been Scout, could it? No, he had gone to bed a little while ago, still looking pretty shaken up. I could've sworn I saw most of the team leave just now, but it had to have been someone…

And upon walking through the door, I found Pyro next to my corpse. Not only was it Pyro, but his mask was taken off and tucked under his arm. He held one of his hands on top of mine, which were folded across my chest, and his eyes were screwed shut.

Suddenly, he began to speak.

He told me that he was sorry. He was so, so sorry. He said that Engineer figured out respawn malfunctioned, and that he wished it were him instead of me in that coffin. But he also told me not to worry; he would hunt down the Spy that killed me and burn him to death a million times over. I'll admit, it made me laugh a little.

He then began to tell me that he wished he'd cooperated all those times when I just wanted to do a simple checkup on him, and he regretted making my life hellish when the time for immunizations came around. He told me that he knew it was for his own good, that I was just trying to help, and that the team couldn't have asked for a better doctor. He also informed me that he was relieved that I respected his privacy in not making him take off his mask.

I snorted a little. Well what did he expect? I was asking for an axe to the face if I pried any further than I did.

He squeezed my hand gently and a tear rolled down his face, which he quickly wiped away before slipping his mask back on. I could still hear him sniffling a bit, but my mind wasn't quite focussed on that at the moment. It was more concentrated on the fact that I missed my team, my _family_. My soul hadn't even moved on yet and I already couldn't imagine a place without them. I wanted to cry, and I tried, but nothing came.

That night, my teammates went to bed in silence. Even Spy, who had barely ever showed any emotion other than anger or smugness, looked like he was about to get choked up. I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. I simply wandered the halls all during the night. It was hell.

The next morning, Soldier woke up bright and early. He took his shovel and went out into the back to find a good place to dig my grave. The rest got dressed in clean uniforms, taking their time to compose themselves for what they would endure before the battle.

They stood on either side of the hole that Soldier had dug that morning. I stood in between Scout and Sniper, my arms around both of them in a feeble attempt to provide comfort at my own funeral. I was surprised to hear a sniffling sound coming from Sniper. Curious, I stood in front of him, taking in the look on his face and he swallowed and wiped his nose. I have to say, I didn't expect this from him. He was always purely professional, what happened out here was always strictly business to him. There was one period where I thought he simply didn't have any emotion at all. But here he was, standing before my grave with tears in his eyes.

Heavy and Soldier brought my coffin to the hole slowly, both men with hardened gazes as they trudged along. They had left it open casket, I found out. As they passed by Sniper, I turned back to look at him. He had sniffled again and started to stare intently at the ground, and I could see his emotionless demeanour breaking a little. Spy placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder with a sigh, watching as Soldier and Heavy lowered my body into the grave. The American proceeded to salute me, telling me how I was a faithful comrade and friend, and that I would be greatly missed. I think I may have even heard his voice quiver a little.

I looked around at my other teammates. Scout had his arms crossed tightly and his eyes screwed shut, his head bowed as a tear rolled down his cheek. Heavy was no better at holding in his emotions, it seemed. He continued to stare at my grave as Soldier filled it with dirt, his eyes red and his hand clasped over his mouth, the other hand tucked under the opposite arm. Never before had I seen Heavy cry, not even a single tear. Ever. But now, I could see that his cheeks were wet and his eyes were brimming with salty water.

Engineer was without his hard hat and goggles, eyes closed solemnly and his brow furrowed slightly. His hands were folded in front of him, though I could see them shaking a little. Soldier never did leave from his spot in front of my grave, only standing there and staring down silently. Demoman walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm shake before he murmured a prayer for my soul. Pyro had actually sat down beside the mound of dirt that now covered my coffin. His head was bowed, and I could see him shaking slightly. Sniper and Spy were how I had seen them before, but both men's eyes were now closed.

I wanted to scream, to holler loud enough for them to hear across the land of the dead so they would know I was there.

So I did. For a long time, I tried to make a sound that they might hear.

But I guess I never could shout that loud.

With a heavy sigh, I took another look at my broken team. They had begun to drift back inside, though I could tell that they were reluctant. Scout openly protested battling today, saying that there was 'no fucking way' that he would fight. He looked tired and pale, but nobody could really blame him.

Eventually, the rest convinced him to go into battle today. None of them really wanted to, I know my own team well enough to see when their hearts aren't in something, but it was their job. It was what kept them and any family that they might have back home fed. I knew I would fight, if only to be able to stay with my team. After all, they had been my family for such a long time.

Sadly, I watched them go, knowing that they'd have to replace me in a week or so.

…

It's been about three months since then. The Announcer replaced me, as I thought she would. I feel a little guilty when I find myself glad that the team didn't warm up to him quite like they did me. But it means that I'm still alive in their hearts, and that they'll never forget me. Who doesn't like knowing that?

I wonder why I haven't left this world yet. I mean, I always kind of thought that spirits went up to heaven when they left their bodies, but I'm still here. Maybe we don't leave. Maybe we just linger among the living forever.

Pah, that's ridiculous. The world would be teeming with centuries and centuries' worth of spirits by now if that were true.

But why, then, am I still here?

Not that I mind, really. I'm just curious. I kind of like it here, even though my team can't see me or even feel my presence. Sometimes, Heavy will come out to my grave and talk to me. I know that he thinks I can't hear him, and I only wish that he could know that I listen to every single word he says. Sometimes it's just a small hello, updating me on what's going on with him and telling me how much he misses me. I tell him that I miss him too. I also tell him to say hello to the rest of the team for me and remind him to feed the doves, but of course, it all falls on deaf ears. He always remembers to feed my birds though, and sometimes Scout helps him.

More often than not, I'll follow them out onto the field. I know that I can't do anything to help anymore, but it makes me feel a little better thinking that I'm still protecting them. I still yell at Soldier when he hurts himself while rocket jumping, and I sit and watch Sniper for hours on end, marvelling at his perfect aim.

Recently, after the end of a battle, I had followed them into the base like usual, listening in on their conversations and adding in my little bits here and there, though they couldn't hear me. They all went into the showers, and I sat outside on the bench, waiting for them to come out.

It was then that I realized why I was still here.

My soul hadn't gone to heaven to be at peace because I couldn't let go.

I couldn't let go of my team, and I acted as if I was still alive and fighting with them. It hit me harder than a ton of bricks. But I didn't want to let go. I like it here, I like being with them. At least, that was what I had been telling myself.

The truth is, I'm not really at peace. I feel alone, more alone than I ever did when I was alive. If I keep this up, I'm doomed to walk the Earth forever, invisible to everyone.

I decide that it's time to finally say my goodbyes.

Once night falls and my teammates are in bed, I make my way inside. The base is dark and silent, save for the crickets that can be heard chirping from outside.

I walk into the first door I see. If I recall correctly, it belongs to Engineer. A peek inside confirms my suspicions, and I can see him sleeping soundly. Plopping myself on the floor next to his bed, I begin to speak.

He's always been a wonderful friend, I tell him, always there for the team when we needed him. I laugh a bit and say that he's the only one that could really match me on an intellectual level, and I thank him for having buckets of patience to spare when I was at the end of my rope. I wish him the best, and bid him goodnight.

The next room I enter belongs to Soldier. I chuckled a little as I see that he's still in his helmet, lying stiff as a board as he sleeps. I swear he has his eyes open, but I can't see much, as his eyes are covered. Sighing a little, I sit down on his stomach, crossing my legs. I tell him that despite his annoying nicknames, I appreciate everything he's ever done for me. I remind him of the many times he's rescued me from enemy fire, all the times that he's helped our team become better and stronger. He really should've been in the army, I say, because I know he's the most loyal person I've ever met. I tell him that the people that were recruiting at the time were massive dümmkopfe. With a small salute, I say goodbye for now, until we meet again.

Next is Spy's room. I sit at the end of his bed, simply looking at him for a while. He looks quite peaceful, much different from his regular state of alert that he's in when he's awake. I suppose it's all part of being a Spy.

Remembering what I came in for, I begin my farewell. I tell Spy that he did well at his job, and that, without him, the team would surely be stopped by the enemy Engineer's sentries on a regular basis. I grin widely, asking him if he remembers the time when Sniper and him got in a fight and he had to try to explain to me what happened with a lip so swollen he couldn't even speak. I'm sure Spy didn't recall the situation fondly, but I find it absolutely hilarious. I get up and pat his hand, telling him that I'll see him in the future.

Across the hall from Spy's room is Demoman's. I creep inside, smiling a little as I admire the very Scottish decorations of his room. He's very proud of his home country, and I've always respected him for that. I kneel beside his bed and lean on it with my elbow while he snores a little. After taking in another moment of being beside my teammate, I sigh and speak to him. I admit that he was right; all of his ghost stories that I had said were preposterous could very well be true. After all, I am a ghost now. There's no way of convincing me that they –_we_–don't exist. I tell him that he's always been an absolutely fantastic storyteller, and his tales never failed to give me chills, even if I didn't believe them at the time. But above all, I let him know that he was a joy to be around, an important part of our team, and I love him dearly. Before I leave, I add that he's not 'a one eyed bloody monster', no matter what anyone says.

My dear pyromaniac is the next person I must see. I find that Pyro's room door is locked, but that's not really a problem. I simply walk right through. Upon entering, I see that Pyro sleeps without his gas mask on, which is probably the cause for the locked door. He's whimpering a little and shuddering, and I immediately rush over to him. I can tell he's having a nightmare. I swallow a little, cursing myself for not being able to do anything. Though I know he can't hear me, I tell Pyro not to worry, that it's only a dream. He would wake up and it would all be okay.

Eventually, he does wake up, though I can tell that all is not okay. He sits up in his bed, hugging his knees and looking at the floor. I try to ask him what's wrong, but I should know by now that I'm not going to get an answer.

To my surprise, he suddenly speaks. He says that he misses me.

I'm frozen for a moment, thinking that by some miracle, he might've heard me. I try speaking again, telling him that I was here, but realization soon dawns on me that his dream must've had something to do with me. That's why he'd said he missed me.

I sigh a little. I miss him too. I miss the whole team, really, but that's why I have to say goodbye. I kneel in front of him, placing a hand on one of his tucked in knees. I tell him that I wish he could hear me and see me, because I would've liked him to know that he was so important to me. He was such a loyal friend and teammate, and I let him know that. I say that if he had decided to take off his mask before I had passed, I would've kept his secret, no matter what. I finish by telling him that he means the world to me, and that I hoped to meet him again someday.

I stay until he goes back to sleep, and from there I make my way to the end of the hall. I take the door on the left first. It's Scout's room.

The boy is sleeping soundly, or so I hope. His finger twitches ever so slightly as I walk over and sit beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. I told him that I wanted him to know that I care about him dearly. Every time I yelled at him for being reckless or doing something he shouldn't have, it was because I didn't like seeing him get hurt. He snores a little for a moment, and I pat his head affectionately, a sad smile on my lips. I let him know how much I'm going to miss him after I leave, and that, no matter how macho he tried to act, he would always be a spastic little boy to me. I lean down and kiss his head, leaving before I can get too choked up. Letting go is going to be harder than I thought.

Finally, I reach the last room; Heavy's. I enter slowly, and I can see that the small lamp on his bedside table is alight. He is reading a small book–I cannot see the name, for his hand is covering it–and his glasses are perched upon his nose, reflecting the light from the lamp.

I take a breath and swallow before crawling onto the bed and nestling up beside him. His book is in Russian, I can see that now, and he flips the page with one finger before concentrating intently on the next. I ask him what his book is about, but he doesn't respond. It's not like I expected him to, I just want to speak to my friend is all.

I tell him right away how much I miss him. I speak of all our good times together. Our chess games, our teamwork on the battlefield, and really, just the times that I could be with him. Nothing could ever replace the memories I had with this burly Russian bear. Feeling myself tearing up, I say that I appreciate his friendship more than he could ever know, and that I'll never forget him, wherever he or I go. I cannot thank him enough for everything he's done for me, and my eyes squeeze shut. No tears flow down my cheeks, but if I were alive, they would be like a river right now.

Slowly, I get up and head back towards the door. I had let go now, I think. I could leave. But just before I disappeared forever, Heavy speaks up, not looking up from his book.

He says that he missed me, and that the entire team did too. But he told me not to worry, because when he saw me again, he would give me the biggest hug ever.

I feel myself standing slack-jawed. How did he… did he hear me that whole time? I wait for a while longer, willing him to speak again, willing to feel acknowledged. But he stays silent.

However, despite the silence, I have Heavy's promise. With a smile, I feel myself fading away slowly. I await the day when we can be reunited again. When we can _all_ be reunited again.

I just hope they don't miss me too much in the meantime.


End file.
